


Don't We Cry About the Present and Live in the Past

by bluetigerlilies



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, Hurt/Comfort, I suppose, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Internalized Homophobia, Klaus Hargreeves & David "Dave" Katz During Vietnam, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Some Fluff, all the wonderful klaus tags, light gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25974130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetigerlilies/pseuds/bluetigerlilies
Summary: Klaus blinked away the blood in his eyes, chest heaving as he collected himself. He looked around them, noticing the Hueys letting out other men in uniform.“Dave,” he croaked, seeing him properly now, throat sore from either screaming or swallowing the filthy water. It didn’t matter.Dave sighed in relief, releasing his grip on Klaus’ shoulders slightly. He smiled, or attempted to, in reassurance. It looked wrong with the blood all over his face.Klaus shook violently under his touch, “W-we’re alive…?” he gasped, unaware he had even asked the question.___An unflinching look into Klaus and Dave’s budding relationship in the midst of war.
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz
Comments: 16
Kudos: 107





	Don't We Cry About the Present and Live in the Past

**Author's Note:**

> "Don't we cry about the present and live in the past" - Written on Klaus' bedroom wall at the academy.

_September 2, 1968_

The first thing he noticed was the smell. Hot, sticky, metal it was. He knew it was coming from him. It was all over him, coating his arms and his face, and clotting into his hair, pressing his curls flush against his forehead and gathering on his eyelashes. He could feel the weight of it on his skin--the way it stuck like sap and held his skin in place when it began to dry, cracking and crumbling between his fingers when he moved them, grasping at his gun and the air in front of him as the world swayed nauseatingly around him, rocking him violently.

He could barely feel his feet hit the ground, but he knew they must have been there, whether he was attached to them or not. He gasped as he felt the foul smelling substance drip down the side of his nose and in the creases around his eyes. It was sinking in, deep, deep, into the folds of his skin, tattooing him. It trickled down his arms to his trembling fingers which grew heavy and slippery. He couldn’t bear the weight of his gun in his hands any longer. It fell to the ground with a silent thud.

The substance weighed him down, constricting his lungs as his knees buckled under his weight. He collapsed into a shallow pool of water, black and thick with mud, and uncomfortably warm. It smelled of rotting leaves and branches, and he welcomed the stench.

He dragged himself farther into the murky water on his forearms, gasping, not minding how much of it he was swallowing. His eyes fluttered shut and his jaw went slack as his arms kicked up water into his face. He must have let out a sound, because he could feel it in his chest, but he was still deafened by the Hueys that flew low over them all not long ago. They left walls of fire and colossal booms of destruction as they passed.

He sniffed, the burning smell of napalm stuck to the inside of his nose, his throat, his hair. He sputtered in the water and drew in a sharp breath, ducking his head under.

He let the dirty water surround him, waving his hair about and getting in all the cracks and crevices, as if it could cleanse him of the horrors of war.

He scrubbed his face under the water, but he couldn’t feel his fingers on his skin. He scratched harder, pressing his broken nails into his scalp, his eyes, his mouth. He could still taste it all. Blood. It was blood. Not his, perhaps. Not one man’s, perhaps, but many. His mouth opened as a scream crawled up his throat and bubbles escaped to the surface.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled his head out of the water. He gasped too soon, choking and coughing, blind. The blood was running into his eyes, still caked into his curls. He thrashed his limbs about, splashing water into the air, trying to tear the hand off his shoulder, but his hand slipped off.

Strong hands, calloused from months of training and battle, held the sides of his face firmly. They shook him, tipping his head upwards. He squinted past the sting of mud and blood and sweat.

The man he was looking at was shouting something, but his head was still full with the deafening hum of propellers. The man shook him again and knelt into the water, drawing his face closer.

He then realized that they were surrounded by Hueys, and that perhaps he hadn’t gone deaf. The harsh winds blew the man’s helmet off, which had already been tipping off his head. He was covered in blood, too. It was fresh, splattered on the side of his face and soaked into the green of his uniform. Dark, metallic, and hot.

He squirmed under the man’s hands, kicking back into the water and tossing his head about as he slowly became aware of where he was. The man reached after him, sitting close, and it looked like he was hushing him. His mouth was forming the word “Okay,” muted amongst the drum of the Hueys.

Surrounding him were horrible sounds, almost animal. With sudden pain in his lungs he realized they must have been coming from him, and he began to hear them clearer.

“ _No! No! I have to get out of here!_ ” The voice was saying, followed by a chorus of sharp “ _No_ ”’s on infinite repeat, hoarse and desperate and absolutely horrified.

The man hushed him once more, stroking his hair and cheek. “Klaus,” he breathed, “You’re okay. We’re back at basecamp for now.” He may have been crying, because his eyes were red and dark, and his lips trembled as he spoke.

Klaus blinked away the blood in his eyes, chest heaving as he collected himself. He looked around them, noticing the Hueys letting out other men in uniform.

“Dave,” he croaked, seeing him properly now, throat sore from either screaming or swallowing the filthy water. It didn’t matter.

Dave sighed in relief, releasing his grip on Klaus’ shoulders slightly. He smiled, or attempted to, in reassurance. It looked wrong with the blood all over his face.

Klaus shook violently under his touch, “W-we’re alive…?” he gasped, unaware he had even asked the question.

Something in Dave’s eyes clouded over, and he nodded once, sparing glances around them at their comrades. His eyes caught his own blood-soaked shirt and he snapped them shut.

Dave quickly pulled Klaus into a tight hug, cradling the back of his blood-caked head as the two of them sat in the mud, shaking with quiet sobs.

~~

_July 9, 1968_

“You’re pretty extraordinary.”

The word caught Klaus off guard, and he drew from his joint in shock, trying his best to mask his dry coughs. Smoke blew from his lips as he chuckled, thumping his chest.

“What?” Dave asked, smirking slightly in a mix of amusement and confusion.

He was propped up on one of his elbows, his body facing Klaus’ in bed. Klaus watched his face for a moment, so close that his nose appeared blurry. Or maybe it was just the weed. He could smell Dave’s skin and his hair, laced with salty sweat and cheap soap from their discreetly shared hotel room.

“Oh, nothing,” Klaus hummed, shimmying his shoulders into a more comfortable position on his pillow, “It’s just so weird. That’s a word my dad really got wet over.”

“Oh,” Dave started, eyes drawing up in recognition, “You haven’t talked about him much.”

Klaus blew a raspberry, checking to see that his joint was still lit. He offered it to Dave lazily, “Well, y’know. Growing up with six siblings and a shitty father, you spend a lot of time complaining about Daddy Dearest behind closed doors.”

Dave nodded intently. He took the joint, brushing their fingers together fleetingly.

Klaus had told him some things about himself. They had all shared their own stories with some of their buddies, either during meal rations or to simply pass the time. Seemed they had a lot of time in Saigon.

Dave had told him about his life back in Texas. About how he worked at a small family-owned hardware store, and about his discomfort around said family, which most notably involved his uncle Brian, the raging homophobe. His influence on Dave was clear to Klaus, who had never pretended to be anyone but himself. Dave was still clearly fighting with himself, sparing shy glances at Klaus in public and taking extra caution in touching him. But in the hotel room, after an exciting night of disco and cheap alcohol, Dave laid his emotions bare to Klaus. Klaus was never one to hold his tongue, so he told Dave quite pointedly that his uncle was a chode, which granted him a chuckle.

There had only really been one person in Klaus’ life who had regularly checked up on him, and that person had been Ben. It’s not like he had much of a choice though, in hindsight, because he was rather forced to spend his ghost life by his side. Dave snaked a hand up the side of his bare stomach and he let his eyes drift shut, sighing. He would think about Ben later, when he could find harder drugs to put in his system.

It was alien, this feeling. Being close to a living person who genuinely wanted to learn about his life and his secrets. What was stranger was that Klaus wasn’t afraid to tell him.

“Why am I extraordinary?” He humoured him, taking the joint gratefully from Dave’s outstretched fingers.

Dave grinned, looking to the left pensively. _God_ , he was stunning, Klaus mused. His eyes were sunny and blue, and they caught the light from the sunrise that pierced through the wooden slats over the far window. He had the faintest dusting of freckles across his cheeks, high with a bright smile. Klaus’ eyes were on his full lips when he spoke,

“Truthfully, I’ve never seen anyone like you before.”

Klaus laughed aloud, shifting to his side in bed to lean on his hand, facing Dave. “Whaaaat?” he droned in a high-pitched voice. Dave made him feel so giddy.

“Really,” Dave laughed, inching closer so he was leaning over Klaus slightly, “There’s something about you. You’re spunky, and you dance like a maniac. I like it.”

Klaus shifted under Dave’s gaze, blowing smoke out the side of his mouth. Dave tipped his nose, breathing it in. “What else?” he asked, unconsciously licking his lips.

Dave offered him a thin smile as his eyebrows crawled up his forehead. He opened his mouth to speak and blushed, exuding a breathy laugh.

“And I’m great in the sack?” Klaus offered, bending his knee up to prod at Dave’s arm. He was enjoying watching Dave squirm. It was cute.

Dave snorted, side-eyeing him, and shook his head, light brown curls falling into his eyes, “Yes, Klaus. You knew that.”

Klaus giggled triumphantly, gearing up to tease him, and Dave planted a deep kiss on his mouth. He brought his fingers to Klaus’ hair, toying with his messy curls, and placed his other hand gently on Klaus’ cheek, thumb stroking his jaw and fingers dancing over the hairs at the nape of his neck.

Klaus stubbed the joint out blindly on the ashtray next to the bed and, once his hand was free, wrapped his arms around Dave’s shoulders and pressed himself upwards into a sitting position.

“Alright, c’mon.” Dave mumbled against his lips, patting his hip. They parted, and Dave reached for his underwear on the floor. Klaus groaned loudly, flopping into his pillow.

“Nooooo, where are you going?” He whined.

Dave shook his head, amused, “Klaus. We’re gonna go out with Ricky and the guys, remember?”

Klaus lifted his curly head off the pillow, recalling a hazy conversation the night before in which Ricky, Jack, and Mike invited them to explore the city.

He slapped a hand over his forehead, beginning to notice the telltale throbbing brought on from their night of debauchery, “Dave. Pumpkin. Sugar cream pie. It’s six in the morning.”

Dave shook his head, stifling a laugh.

“I’m so glad my suffering amuses you,” Klaus mumbled. He felt the bed dip with Dave’s sudden weight as he leaned over him, now half dressed.

“We can’t stay in this room _forever_ ,” Dave said, but Klaus could tell he was mulling it over in his head with the way his eyes looked to the side.

Klaus cocked his head, now looking up at Dave, “Can’t we?” He asked innocently, batting his eyelashes.

Dave’s eyes scanned his face and he hummed, smirking. He looked at him in a way that made Klaus’ stomach do a triple axel and he swallowed, attempting to rid himself of the sudden dryness in his throat. He could feel his cheeks heating up and he mentally cursed himself and his pale skin.

“We can pretend,” Dave spoke just above a whisper. It was then that Klaus placed his expression. It was awe. Awe and adoration. He was sure Dave could see the vulnerability on his face as he looked up at him, eyebrows high and knit together. His eyes were wide and his mouth was opened slightly as he held back a few precious words. He wanted to say, ‘I’d take forever with you in a heartbeat’. He bit his tongue instead, and smiled genuinely up at Dave.

“Then they can wait.”

~~

_August 25, 1968_

The screams were deafening. Constant. Klaus’ feet carried him forwards but he was close to collapsing under the crushing sounds. The ghosts were everywhere, surrounding him in a nightmarish tunnel, and he couldn’t see out. As soon as they realized he could see them, they would not leave him alone. They screamed and begged him to help, and their cries muddled into one screeching hum. He hadn’t known silence since he ran out of drugs. They had all come back now, gradually creeping their way into his head, and so did the shakes and the sweats. His body was weak and sore, and his muscles spasmed as he forced himself forward, following his comrades.

His hair stuck to his neck, slick and dripping with sweat. It dripped into his eyes and he rubbed them with the back of his hand, using the little bit of strength he still had to shake his curls out of his tired eyes. The humidity of the jungle lingered on his skin like a bad smell and stuck his clothes to his body, wrapping him in a thick wall of hot, buzzing air. The bugs were crawling on his exposed skin, feeding off of him. They were preparing, he thought. Perhaps he was already dead.

The men ahead of him moved in slow-motion as his vision came in and out of a blur. They morphed into crude green smudges, indistinguishable from the jungle and the ghosts that smothered him. He breathed heavily, weakly waving his arm out in front of him to ward off the ghosts, the bugs, the heat--everything. His throat was too dry to scream and his mouth was sticky. Slowly, Klaus reached for his canteen, shaking violently. It slipped out of his sweaty hands as he tried to unscrew the cap, and when he leaned down to grab it a scream broke out next to his ear.

He clapped his hands over his ears, looking around in a panic for the source of the horrible sound. The jungle spun around him, shaking him like a leaf. The pain was so intense. It tore apart his muscles and his chest and his throat, and he realized he could not hold on to anything anymore. They had caught up to him. The ghosts were going to devour him. His body was finally giving up on him, and soon he would rot into the jungle floor, becoming food for the bugs that crawled into his ears, his nose, his eyes…

It was his own fault. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Oh, well.

A blur moved towards him and he let out a strangled sigh, unable to cry out. He heard voice call his name just before his hands fell from his ears and the ground came up to meet his face. It was painful, but when it was over he felt nothing.

~~

_September 17, 1968_

They ate up every moment alone like starving animals. It wasn’t often they got the chance to be completely alone together, so they used every solitary second.

They were fooling around at basecamp behind some trees on the first slightly cool night of the year. The air was chilly against Klaus’ sweaty skin, but he welcomed the feeling. It soothed any aches and pains that he was dealing with throughout the day.

Dave kissed him like a teenager, he thought. Excitable, feverish, and giggling. Klaus wasn’t any different. He couldn’t help it. Dave easily made him melt under his gaze alone, which was frightening at first, since Klaus was rather afraid of becoming weak and losing himself. But he soon learned to welcome the feeling. It was okay to be vulnerable around Dave, to let his cheery facade down in front of him, because Dave would always catch him in his arms and be his safe place, no matter how violent and pervasive the nightmares got, and no matter how much his body shook with withdrawals or sobs or terror. Dave steadied him.

His tongue was in Dave’s mouth and his legs were wrapped around his hips when the noise had him reeling back. At first, he’d thought they’d been discovered by one of their men. It wouldn’t have bothered him as much as it would Dave, but he jumped back anyway. There was no one there.

“What’s wrong?” Dave asked, keeping his voice low. His hands were still on Klaus’ waist and he moved one hand to stroke his back.

Klaus pointed his attention to the bushes across from them. The sound had come from that direction, he noted.

Swallowing nervously, he didn’t tear his eyes from the bushes as he grabbed his gun from its place beside him. He leapt up, pointing the gun and cocking it.

Dave stood and reached for his own gun slowly, “Did you see something?” He whispered.

Klaus licked his lips and stared down the barrel, eyes wild and unblinking. He was frozen in place and he could hardly hear Dave whisper past the blood rushing in his ears. He thought he saw one--a VC in the bushes, perhaps. It could have been. No. He was just seeing things. If Dave didn’t see anything, it could have just been a ghost. He squeezed his finger over the trigger anyway.

 _Just in case_ , he thought. _Just one shot, for good measure. To protect Dave_.

His finger cramped over the trigger and he could feel his legs begin to shake. He flicked his eyes over the bushes, black in the night, desperate not to miss any signs of movement. If he looked away for only a second, it would be over for one or both of them.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he flinched, pointing his gun to the direction of the hand. He held his breath.

“Klaus,” Dave said steadily, “It’s okay. There’s no one there.” He held his palms up, voice earnest, and Klaus suddenly noticed what he was doing. He moved to lower his gun, guilt racking his body.

Then the noise came back from its spot in the bushes.

Klaus spun around, letting out a surprised shout. His breath was caught in his throat as he stared down the source of the noise. A young black bear. It spotted Klaus at the same time, freezing just as he did. Its eyes shined in the moonlight like glossy black buttons, unreadable. Afraid, perhaps, of him.

Klaus swallowed the lump in his throat and lowered his gun. His breath came in little gasps, and he fell back against a tree, hugging his arms to his chest.

“Hey, hey, hey…” came Dave’s soothing voice. He placed a hand on Klaus’ cheek and tried to meet his eyes. Klaus watched, frozen in place, as the black bear turned around, bobbing its large head as it disappeared into the shadows.

“I… I…” Klaus whispered, “I thought it was a VC…”

“I know. It’s okay.” Dave said, smoothing the dark curls out of his face.

“No. Dave…” he started, meeting Dave’s eyes fearfully, “I was going to shoot him.”

The words fell from his mouth almost silently. His fear had completely taken over his body. He was fully ready to shoot a person. He curled his nose, eyebrows drawing together, as he dug his nails into his biceps and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Klaus… it’s war.” Dave spoke, but Klaus could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

“Dave. The first reaction I had was to shoot. That’s never happened before. What’s going on?”

Dave was quiet as he listened. He stroked Klaus’ cheek and Klaus leaned into it, feeling a hot tear run down the side of his face. Dave rubbed it away with a gentle thumb.

He shook his head, meeting Dave’s eyes again, “I don’t…” his lip quivered, “I’m so tired of the killing...”

Dave’s face twisted at that. He looked suddenly very mournful, and he nodded his head in silence before pulling Klaus into a long hug.

“Me too,” Dave said wetly into Klaus’ shoulder, “It’s going to be okay.”

And Klaus melted into him. He spoke above a whisper into Dave’s neck, “The darkness… I _hate_ it. I hate it _so much_. I see so many things, Dave. Shadows, creeping… I can’t tell if they’re remnants of old memories or not.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

Klaus buried his nose in Dave’s neck, breathing in his familiar scent, letting it ground him. He did know. He knew about the mausoleum, about the nightmares, about his father. He was the only other person who _did_ know, and he took it with such ease, foregoing any strong emotions it brought up within him to instead offer his comfort to Klaus. Dave gave him a reason to stay, to be brave. His chest fluttered with the realization that perhaps he truly loved him, and that this was what love felt like, and he squeezed Dave tighter.

They stayed like that a while longer. Klaus was secure in his belief that no one would come looking for them there.

~~

_December 22, 1968_

Klaus’ cigarette burned to the filter in his fingers. With a hiss through his teeth he flicked it into the dirt next to his previous three from the same sitting.

His jaw clenched and unclenched as he fumbled through his pack for another cigarette. His throat was raw at this point, but he didn’t care. Sobriety was kicking his ass.

He was sat outside at basecamp with a couple other guys from their squad--Jack, Samuel, Mike, and Benjamin. They had been playing a game of poker and Jack had won, gathering up his winnings and waving them in the faces of the losers. Klaus watched in amusement as Samuel jumped out of his seat and tackled Jack. He chucked, blowing smoke through his lips, as the others joined in and wrestled each other, throwing play punches here and there.

He knew where it was, watching him, but he was focused on keeping his attention on his squad.

He bounced his leg nervously, drawing from his cigarette, as Mike called him to help.

Klaus waved his hands passively, telling him to fight his own battles.

It was still staring at him when he stole a quick glance in its direction.

It could have been one of theirs, or it could have died years ago. It was almost impossible to tell. Its head was caved in on one side and dark blood cascaded over what was left of its face and its single eye. Its jaw was unhinged, revealing an almost impossibly long tongue that lapped at its neck when it attempted to speak to him, letting out little gargles that made him sick to his stomach.

Klaus inhaled through his nose and tore his gaze away. He squeezed his eyes shut, wrapping an arm around himself and bouncing his leg more aggressively.

He had been on a bit of a bender the previous week. Some of the guys had shared some weed with him, but he had decided that wasn’t enough, so he sought out harder drugs from a different squad in their platoon. He’d spent the rest of the week heavily sedated on morphine and a mix of other drugs he didn’t care to ask about. It did the trick, anyway. He couldn’t take seeing the ghosts anymore, especially when he recognized so many of them.

He decided to busy himself with the sketchbook he brought out and placed against the stump he was perched on. He had been working on a sketch of some trees, but the sun had since changed position so he flipped the page. He decided to sketch out his squad and their playfight.

“Hargreeves!” A voice that belonged to Benjamin had called some time later, “What are you sketching today?”

Benjamin was the youngest of their squad at eighteen. Klaus thought it was absolutely adorable how his eyes would light up in wonder at the simplest things. His eyes had not seen much of the world yet. He couldn’t help but be reminded of Ben when he looked at the kid. Maybe it was just in the name, but there was something else about him that tugged at Klaus’ heart a little. Ben was so young when he died, with the same wide eyes. This boy was sensitive and caring, like Ben. It was comforting to be around him, especially since Klaus had been separated from the brother he was once with every single day. Damn it, he missed him.

Klaus hummed and flipped the book around so he could see, “You’re all a little wonky, but that’s because I had to draw it quickly. You move around too much.”

Benjamin laughed, light and airy. He tilted an eyebrow and held on to the page when he asked, “Who’s that?”

Klaus froze, “Hm?” He feigned confusion and flipped the book around, and sure as shit. He’d drawn the stupid ghost.

“Oh…” he laughed forcibly, “Y’know, I dunno. Sometimes I just freehand.”

Benjamin seemed convinced by that and he looked up when Dave appeared next to Klaus with two tins of hot food.

“Drawing something?” Dave asked, passing one of the tins to Klaus. Klaus brushed his knuckles under the tin, just out of Benjamin’s view, and offered him a small smile.

“Haha… yeah, just practising.”

Dave smiled adoringly and tilted his head to see the page. He frowned slightly a moment later, leaning next to Klaus’ head, their hair touching, and looking forward at his line of sight, then back at him.

One of the guys called Benjamin back over and he promptly yelled something about them all being immature which caused the others to burst into a fit of laughter and fake coos, poking fun at poor young Benny. They walked as a group to the food tent. Jack asked Dave if he was coming, and Dave waved the hand that held his tin, same kind smile still on his face.

“Where is it, then?” Dave wasted no time, _damn_. He watched Klaus’ face expectantly.

Klaus stabbed his mashed potatoes, “ _Daaave_ …”

“No, come on,” Dave nudged his arm. Klaus’ skin tingled. “Want me to fuck it up? ‘Cause I’ll do it, for you. It’ll never come back here.”

Klaus couldn’t help but laugh, dropping his head shyly and crushing his cigarette under his boot. Dave nudged him with his elbow playfully, and Klaus smiled at him for a moment, mouth tight. He scratched his ear before using the same hand to subtly point in the direction of the ghost.

Dave looked over, which amused Klaus. He always did that, seeming to forget momentarily that he could not, in fact, see them. He nodded once, saluting Klaus, and took off running in the direction of the ghost, letting out what could only be described as a battle cry.

Klaus watched with his mouth hanging open and laughed in shock. The ghost hovered around Dave, albeit leaning slightly away from him, before it buggered off.

Dave fired two finger guns at the air, crying out, “Go away!”s and “Git on outta here, bastard!”s. Klaus laughed so hard he started to cough, trying to catch his breath as he clutched his stomach.

“C'mere, cowboy.” He said when he could get a breath in, reaching for Dave.

Dave flopped down beside him, letting out a satisfied sigh. He caught his breath and turned his flushed face up at Klaus, “Did it work? Is it gone, then?”

Klaus nodded, smiling lovingly at him.

Dave shook his fists triumphantly and looked ahead at nothing, “And I’ll do it again, damn it! So stay away!”

Klaus shushed him, still laughing and batting his arm. They smiled at each other for a moment and Klaus couldn’t help but sigh. God, Dave was beautiful.

~~

_January 21, 1969_

The attack came on suddenly. He was with Dave when it happened, within arm’s reach, and then they were running. There was fire in the trees and bullets flying past his ears like hornets. Klaus lost sight of him.

He returned to camp with one other guy--Caleb. They’d found each other in the tall grass just before they were all ordered to retreat.

The violence pierced every sense he had. It bore into his eyes and buried itself deep into his nose and his chest, making a home for itself. His teeth chattered with the aftershock and adrenaline and he rubbed his nose, trying to shake out the smell of burning flesh. He was painfully sober. He wished, not for the first time, that he had loaded up on morphine and passed out before they went out on patrol. He’d much rather get chewed out than this.

 _They_ were everywhere, indistinguishable from his comrades. Everyone was covered in blood, dirt, and ash. Some of them were more obvious--the ones who had bullet holes in their helmets, or one that was dragging itself on the ground, missing its entire lower half. Klaus bent over and dry heaved as soon as he’d made sense of what he was looking at. He spat as nothing came out.

Panic prickled in Klaus’ chest as he realized he still hadn’t seen Dave. He all but burst into the medic tent, knowing that what he would inevitably see in there would haunt him. His need to find Dave overpowered that.

It was worse than he imagined.

The living men were stacked side by side on stretchers--dozens, maybe hundreds of them--groaning, flailing, bleeding. Some of them were screaming, unable to stop. Some of them were missing limbs. Some of them were severely burned and hardly able to make a sound. But the dead… they were absolutely everywhere.

They stretched to every corner of the tent, spilling out the sides, screaming in agony, begging with the other men to be seen. Some of them were so disfigured they hardly looked human. Some of them were VCs, or from the Vietnamese army, and they were screaming and cursing at the men. Klaus had to look away.

He pulled himself from the tent and fell sideways into the dirt. His helmet flew off, bouncing several yards away. He curled into himself, gasping and shaking in horror. He squeezed his hands over his eyes but couldn’t get rid of the sounds of the dead.

The assault on his senses was completely overwhelming. The howls and gurgles of the dead blended with the moans of the living and the cries of the living who had suffered losses. The smell of burnt flesh and blood crawled inside his nose and into his brain, poisoning him and rotting him from the inside out.

He fled, barely registering Caleb’s voice calling his name. He didn’t know where he was running to, and he couldn’t see, but he had to get away.

And there Dave was.

It looked like Dave. It could have been Dave. He was standing among a crowd of living soldiers mixed together with wandering souls, moaning and weeping. Klaus’ chest heaved as he attempted to separate them from one another in his mind.

Dave had blood on him. It was covering his arm and his side and his hair, and he was caked in dirt and ash. His head was tilted skyward, searching the crowd.

Klaus’ legs didn’t move. He couldn’t do this. He had to get away again. Somewhere, not here. He wasn’t brave enough to run to Dave, damn it. He couldn’t know. He didn’t want to know if he was right. If Dave was dead.

At that moment, a man slumped up to Dave and waved his arm at him, and the man’s arm passed through. Klaus’ heart stopped beating. The man had seen Dave. Dave had not seen him.

Klaus discarded his gun to the side and dashed toward Dave despite his body’s resistance.

He all but toppled Dave over and cried out in relieved sobs when he felt their chests collide. It nearly knocked the wind out of him, but he held on desperately and ran his hands over Dave’s back, his hair, his arms--anything, to check that he was alive.

Dave grabbed him back, gasping in relief and shock. He knelt to the ground, taking Klaus and his weak legs with him and supporting his head and his back with his arms--shaking horribly, but still strong. Stable.

Klaus sobbed into Dave’s shoulder, unable to speak. Dave spoke for him, breathless,

“Shhh, shh… Klaus, we’re okay. We’re alive.”

That was all Klaus needed. He didn’t care that the others could see them. He didn’t care that they were two grown men sitting in a heap in the dirt and bawling. He didn’t care anymore about the ghosts that surrounded them. He focused on the feeling of Dave’s heartbeat against his, and the way Dave's hands grasped at him the same way his hands grasped at Dave. Checking, assessing.

They parted only slightly and Dave looked over his face, hands scanning his head and neck, unable to stay in one place. He focused on a patch of blood on Klaus’ cheek and rubbed it off, momentary panic spreading over his face before he realized it was only a cut.

Klaus held him as he cried, “I-I-I thought you were…”

“I know,” Dave said, bringing his face close so their foreheads touched. “I know, my love.” His eyes were full of fear and panic, but they were strong and sure, and Klaus focused intently on them, determined not to look away at the horrors surrounding them.

Klaus closed the small gap between them in a desperate kiss. He couldn’t care anymore. No one would see them on the ground. His eyes drifted closed as their lips moved, and he didn’t mind that they both tasted like blood and dirt and ash.

“I love you so much,” Dave breathed when they parted. His eyes were focused back on Klaus’ and he held his face in both his hands.

Klaus’ eyes welled up with more tears, or maybe it was just the smoke and ash. He let Dave pull him into another tight hug, and he spoke into his ear, voice shaking, “I love you too. Dave, Dave, Dave…” He would say his name as many times as it took to make him feel completely calm.

~~

_October 14, 1968_

They were patrolling when they first said they loved each other.

It was sort of an accident, in fairness. Klaus just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. In his defence he was a bit tipsy off some _liquid courage_ , one could say.

They were combing the hills, as they did so often, guns poised and paying close attention. In times like these, they would find anything to talk about to pass the time.

Klaus had somehow gotten Dave all excited about books, and he absolutely ate him up. Dave was so cute when he was excited about something and had become even cuter upon Klaus’ discovery in Saigon that Dave was secretly a huge nerd.

“I told you about Dune, right?” Dave asked him, smiling to himself. His cheeks were flushed slightly and he shimmied with excitement when Klaus lied that he had not. Klaus just wanted to hear about it from him once more.

He watched Dave in admiration as he described the plot and its themes of war and environmentalism, waving his hands about as he spoke dramatically, and Klaus tried his best to cling to every word he said. He kept finding himself distracted by the light brown curls that poked out from underneath Dave’s helmet, over his eyes, and the way that Dave would squint them away. He breathed in as he reminded himself of the feeling of threading his fingers through those curls, blond in direct morning sunlight. How they felt when they were a little sweaty and dishevelled. How they felt when he gave them a little tug, and how it warranted a quiet gasp and a wet-lipped grin from Dave. His mind wandered and showed him images of Dave pressing his soft lips to Klaus’ palm tattoos, inquiring about them, and telling him he’s the most interesting and beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Fuck, I love you…” Klaus thought.

Dave laughed softly, “Haha, I love you too-”

They both turned to each other, silent as the grave.

Dave took a few quick glances around, noticing they were rather far from the rest of the guys, before looking back at Klaus, face beet red and mouth slightly ajar.

“Ahh shit, was that out loud?”

Dave’s small nod confirmed his question.

Klaus’ heart dropped out of his butt. Oops.

“You love me?” Dave asked quietly.

Klaus prayed he would step on a land mine.

He could feel his face burn as he sputtered, then stopped himself. He had never felt this way before! Never this nervous or embarrassed. What was he so afraid of? His heart hammered away in his throat and he took one deep breath,

“Yes…?” Was all he could come up with, “...Yes.” He confirmed.

A shy smile crawled across Dave’s face, still red, “Ah.” Dave said, clearing his throat and pretending to busy himself with wiping some imaginary dirt off his gun.

“Now, wait a tick…” Klaus started, walking closer to Dave through the tall grass, trying to get a good look at his face, “You love me back?”

Dave’s mouth hung open and Klaus could tell he was trying to find the words. He cleared his throat again and itched his neck, visibly sweating. He stole another glance at the rest of their squad and took a few deep breaths, eyes closed and eyebrows wrinkled together.

“Hey…” Klaus reached out to touch his arm, “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it right now, Dave-”

“Um. Yes.” Dave said hoarsely, “I think I do love you, Klaus.” He looked at him this time, a little nervously, but seemed to visibly relax when he met his eyes.

Klaus smiled sincerely, dragging his fingers lightly over Dave’s arm.

“Actually,” Dave started, and Klaus tensed up, “I know I do. I really love you… shit… I think I’ve been in love with you for a while.” He whispered, worrying his bottom lip.

Damn, Dave had some balls. _Haha, yeah he did!_ Klaus was over the moon. He wanted so badly to tackle him in hugs and kisses, to fuck him right then and there, to take his hands and kiss him with everything he had…

He squeezed Dave’s arm instead, honouring Dave’s fears of the others finding out about them. They would get there. He wouldn’t let Dave be afraid forever. One day, he knew they would be able to be out and proud together. He would hold his hand and tell him he loved him a million times over if it would help.

That night, after they had set up camp, Klaus was finding it hard to sleep. Not that that was anything out of the ordinary, as he hardly slept at all, even on good nights. He looked up at the moon as a source of light in the creeping darkness of the jungle. He willed the ghosts to stay away, but they were always there, waiting for him to fall asleep. He busied his mind with thoughts of Dave and found that it calmed him down quickly. He breathed a sigh of relief and tuned into a memory of the two of them goofing around when they had a moment alone. Dave was teaching him how to shoot like him, sometime in the summer. He stood behind him, strong arms guiding his, and his breath was hot against Klaus’ ear, blowing tufts of his hair about. He could feel Dave’s lips brush his skin as he spoke and it made his stomach explode into butterflies.

He’d shot every beer can successfully, and then they crept deeper into the jungle and made love on the ground as noisily as they wanted to.

Something sat beside his leg and he was snapped from his reverie in a small jolt of panic. He whined involuntarily, noticing suddenly that his lip was sore from biting down on it.

“Hey…” Dave whispered, stroking his hair and moving his hand down to his cheek, then to delicately thumb at his now bleeding lip, “Everyone’s asleep. You wanna get out of here?”

Klaus grinned. Oh, yes.

They found a spot among some low-hanging trees, canopy-like. They sat together, half lying down against the trunk of a massive tree. Dave had his arm draped around Klaus’ shoulders and Klaus was absentmindedly playing with Dave’s hand. He was looking at the sky, trying to catch a glimpse of the stars through the leaves. In the city, it was rare to ever see a star. They were stunning, and humbling all the same.

“So, cat’s out of the bag.” Dave spoke first, addressing the elephant in the room.

Klaus smirked, dropping his head against Dave’s shoulder to look at him, “Yeah, but was it that hard to guess?”

“Ha. No.” Dave shrugged, smiling, “I meant it, you know.”

Klaus chose that moment to commit the features of Dave’s face to his memory, “I know,” he murmured seriously, “So did I.”

Dave smiled excitedly and leaned in to kiss him, placing a hand on his cheek and stroking his jaw with his thumb.

“I want…” Klaus began when they parted, feeling a bit silly, “I want something to let everyone know I’m yours, and you’re mine.”

Dave laughed at that, “You’re too confident, Hargreeves. You still think the other guys are gonna flirt with you.”

The name made his chest flip. Dave only called him that when he was poking fun. “Oh, absolutely!” Klaus said, eyes wide.

“Shut up,” Dave laughed, “I love you.”

Klaus felt those butterflies again. Dave chuckled beside him and Klaus hummed in question.

“Feels good to say that,” Dave mused, “I really love you.”

“I love you too.” He smiled, giddiness bubbling up in his chest, “And I meant it, you know. I want some kind of symbol. You don’t have to have one. I just want something to let the world know I’m damn happy with you and I love you.”

“Oh? How about… a ring.”

Klaus curled his lip, “What are we, straight?”

Dave laughed a little too loud before Klaus covered his mouth with his hand.

“What about these?” he asked, dragging his hand from Dave’s mouth to his chest and hooking a finger around the chain of his dog tags, pulling them out of his shirt.

Dave took them back, snickering, “I need those, Klaus. I’ll get you something nice when we get outta here.”

Klaus was about to pout, but he perked up at that, bringing his large eyes back to Dave’s face, “Oh?”

“Yeah…” Dave sighed, “We’ll be together properly, then.”

Klaus wrapped an arm around his waist, squeezing him. He hummed, thinking for a moment, before speaking, “I’m gonna get your name tattooed on my skin.”

Dave sat upright, “What? You’re crazy!”

“Uhh, yeah,” Klaus said very obviously, “That’s kinda my whole thing. Keep up, David.”

Dave pushed Klaus’ hair into his eyes playfully and leaned back against the tree, “I’d like to see it…” he said wistfully, sleep crawling into his voice.

Klaus made himself comfortable against Dave’s side and pressed an ear to his chest. He listened to the thump of his heart, not knowing how long he stayed like that. He just kept listening, reminding himself that everything was okay. The jungle was dark and full of terrors, and they were fighting a war that they were going to lose, and he was separated from his family by fifty years and thousands of miles, but Dave was here with him, right in that moment, and Dave would never let anything bad happen to him.

Klaus sighed happily, feeling his head rise and fall with Dave’s steady breathing.

“Hey,” he said after a while.

Dave lifted his head off the tree, face barely visible in the dark, “What?”

“You wanna mess around?”

Dave snorted, stifling a laugh. He sat up, peering into Klaus’ face,

“Klaus, if I ever say no to that question I want you to feed me to the tigers.”

“Alright, pinky promise.”

And Dave burst out laughing, and they threw their arms around each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Lord, I write such angsty stuff. But with a fairly happy ending! No Dave death scene in this one though because idk about y’all but I can’t handle it. What do you think, should I write a longer one about Klaus’ time in Vietnam, or maybe an AU this time? I need these boys to be happy.  
> Also, thoughts! Season 2 mentioned that Dave died on February 21, 1968 but wouldn’t he have died in 1969 because Klaus landed in 1968 and stayed there for 10 months…? So he would have arrived in April of 1968. Idk, did anyone else notice this,,,,,?


End file.
